How to Cope with the Death of a Stranger
by platonicunicorn
Summary: Coping with Castiel's death has so far proved difficult for Dean, and when Gabriel shows up out of nowhere with a box of Cas' old things, it doesn't really help - especially when Dean looks through it and finds Cas' journal, because he's not exactly sure he wants to know what it says. (Oh, who is he kidding? Of course he wants to know.) (sequel to What Hurts the Most) ((on hiatus))
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Okay. So. This took forever and I apologize, but instead of a quick, 2000-word one shot, this monstrosity has turned into five chapters. Which is good, I guess, at least for you guys. :) For those of you who have read** _ **What Hurts the Most**_ **(and if you haven't, I strongly suggest reading it first, because this probably won't make sense otherwise), this takes place a few weeks or so after the funeral, but obviously way before the epilogue. (Special thank you to guest reviewer Rose for the idea that has already spiraled so much farther than I anticipated!)**

Gabriel is moving, and as pissed as Dean is, he can't really blame the guy. No way in hell Dean would stay in that gigantic house alone, with all those memories, if it had been his brother. Dean knows that Sam is broken up about Gabriel leaving, but there isn't anything either of them can do to make him stay. Gabriel won't even tell them where he's going, just that he wants to see the East Coast.

Before he leaves, he stops by Sam's house with a giant cardboard box in hand. When Dean answers the door, he's surprised to see Gabriel even bothered to say goodbye, let alone bring anything with him. "Here," Gabriel says, shoving the box at Dean almost violently. "This box didn't fit in the moving truck."

Dean just stares at it, then at Gabriel. "Why the hell are you giving it to me?"

Gabriel rolls his eyes as if it's obvious Dean should know, and Dean holds back the urge to punch him in the face. "It's Cas' old stuff," he explains impatiently. "I found most of it in the back of his closet, some under his bed. I don't want it, and it doesn't fit in the truck, but I can't just get rid of it."

"So you think I want it?" Dean scoffs. "You think I want anything to do with him anymore?"

"Yeah," Gabriel challenges. "I think you do."

Dean almost laughs at the idea, but before he can shut the door in Gabriel's face, Sam comes down the staircase. "Dean, who are you talking—?" If Dean didn't know how much it hurt his brother to see Gabriel again, he would have thought Sam's expression was almost comical. His nose scrunched up, and his eyes went wide. "Gabe?" Sam said, walking slowly up to the door. "What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

"Hey, Sammy," Gabriel starts, but Sam flinches.

"Don't call me that," he says quietly, and Gabriel has the decency to look ashamed of himself for acting like nothing has changed and everything between him and Sam is fine.

"I wanted to drop off some of Cas' things," he tells Sam. "But your brother doesn't want them." 

Sam gives Dean a look, and Dean just frowns at him. The last thing Dean wants is to have any reminder of Cas, why can't Gabriel or Sam see that? "You're right, I don't. So you can take your box and either leave it on the side of the road or throw it in a dumpster, but don't give it to me."

"Dean," Sam says quickly, before Gabriel leaves, "Wait." Dean glares at him, but Sam is already turned toward Gabriel. "Gabe, give it to me. I'll keep it."

Gabriel nods gratefully and hands Sam the box, and Dean fumes. "I don't want it, Sam, what the _hell_?"

Sam just shushes him, something he hasn't done in years, and then says goodbye to Gabriel. Dean can tell there's something both of them still want to say to each other, but they stay silent and Gabriel drives off in his stupid fancy car.

"You're probably never gonna see him again, and you're just gonna let him go like that?" Dean asks, and when Sam looks at him his eyes are so full of mixed emotions that Dean simply shuts up. "What's in the box that I don't want to see?" he asks instead, pulling out an object that looks sort of like an old shoebox. When he opens it, it's full of old, frayed paintbrushes and a set of paints that looks dried out. "An art set," he says.

"Gabriel did say he wanted to be a painter," Sam points out, and Dean remembers very clearly the moment at the funeral he realized Cas was almost a total stranger to him.

"Anything else interesting?" Dean asks, putting the lid back on the shoebox and hoping Sam doesn't realize he's too already too enveloped in memories to look through anymore of Cas' stuff.

Sam sifts through it for a while, removing a few classic books and setting them on the kitchen counter, a handful of baseball trading cards, a picture. Sam shows him the photograph, which is an old polaroid captioned "Summer 1999" that shows Cas, age 16 or so, Gabriel around 19, and six other older children, all standing proudly next to an elaborate sandcastle that must have taken hours to build. Dean smiles at how happy Cas looks for a moment before he realizes this might have been the last picture Cas had of his family when they were all still together and happy. Before Cas was disowned and his family was torn apart and everything went to shit.

He puts the picture down carefully, and ignores his sudden need to close his eyes and forget any of this happening.

"Dean," Sam says suddenly. "Is this… Cas' journal?"

Dean looks at the notebook Sam is holding, and he suddenly decides that no matter what is inside it, what it says about Cas or Dean or anyone, Dean never wants to know. "Doesn't matter," he shrugs, hoping Sam can't see how terrified he has just become. "If it's his private diary or whatever, we shouldn't read it."

Sam nods, and placing it in the pile next to the other books. "What do you want to do with all this stuff? I could put it in the attic, if you want…" 

Dean shakes his head vigorously, and then realizes that looks like he's attached to these random objects and he tries to play it off. "Nah, I'll take it," he says, and he puts the stack of books and cards and the picture back in the box and takes it upstairs before Sam can ask questions.

When he gets to his bedroom, he closes the door behind him and sets the box on his bed. He stares at it for a while, then he sits down beside it and stares some more.

What the fuck is he supposed to do with this? This tiny piece of Cas, this slice of his life and soul preserved against the terrible events of the world and time. It's untainted by any horrible memories, and Dean doesn't know if he wants to change that or not.

He thinks it might be better to deal with all this when he doesn't feel like shooting Gabriel in the face or taking a very _long_ nap, but then he sees the journal, sitting on top of all the other books in the box, and he grows deadly curious. He really doesn't want to know what's in it, it's gonna hurt so freaking much to read, and it's all around a very bad idea.

He pulls it out of the box and opens it to the first page.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Same trigger and language warnings that applied to** _ **What Hurts the Most**_ **also apply here. Not fun stuff. I don't know whether I should say I'm sorry or you're welcome for this, but this chapter somehow turned out to be 8000 words, 6000 more than my usual chapter. I considered breaking it up, but I really** _ **really**_ **want this to only be five chapters. Plus, I'm going on vacation today, and I won't have internet for three to four weeks, meaning this is the last update for a while. But I will use that time to write, meaning faster updates when I get home! Enjoy. :)**

the first time

Christmas break began exactly six and a half days ago, which means Castiel hasn't left the house in nearly a week, and also that all of his siblings are migrating back home from their various positions around the globe. Gabriel arrived three days ago, straight from a business conference in France. Castiel doesn't know how he managed to obtain a managerial position when he hasn't even graduated with his Master's degree yet, but he knows his brother has always been incredibly talented in his chosen career. Anna and Hannah had come down from their shared apartment in New York, although Castiel is aware Anna is moving out soon to live with her fiancé. None of his family members will tell him what exactly Inias and Raphael were doing before they came to visit, so Castiel suspects it has something to do with their jobs as federal agents.

That leaves only two absent Milton children: the twins, Michael and Luc.

Thankfully, now that they're in their thirties, the twins rarely come around to see their parents (and, because he still lives with them, Castiel). Unfortunately, that means that when they are around Cas, they have to make up for all the teasing they've missed out on since the last time he saw them. Being twelve years older than Castiel apparently gives the twins the right to treat him like a punching bag.

Not physically, at least most of the time, but verbally. Constant barrages of various insults and jabs since Castiel was old enough to understand them. And now, after three full years of avoiding them, they're back for Christmas dinner, or at least they would be soon.

Christmas isn't until tomorrow, but his family prefers to eat a feast the night before in order to focus more on religion and church when the day itself arrives. Castiel has never really understood why they care so much about a god they can't see, but he would never dare admit such a thing to his father. In order to prepare for the massive amounts of food that will be needed to feed eight young adults, his mother has been slaving away in the kitchen since ten in the morning. He offers to help her mash the potatoes in order to keep his mind off of the imminent arrival of his oldest brothers, but she smiles tightly and waves him away, telling him to go talk to Gabriel or Anna about something.

He doesn't dare argue with her, and he understands she prefers working alone. Cooking is one of the only activities she allows herself to enjoy, and Castiel won't begrudge her that.

Upstairs, his siblings are all conglomerated in front of the giant flat-screen television, arguing over what to watch for the rest of the day until dinner is ready.

"It's Christmas!" Anna insists, grabbing for the remote that Gabriel holds over his head. "We have to watch _Elf_! It's a _classic!_ "

"Christmas means _football_ , not terrible Will Ferrell movies," Gabriel counters, expertly flicking the channel to ESPN without taking his eyes off of Anna.

"We could always watch a _real_ classic," Inias interjects. " _It's a Wonderful Life_ is the only option here, and you all know it."

Hannah laughs out loud at the mere suggestion, and then makes a grab for the remote herself. "No, we should watch _Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer_!"

"I flat-out refuse to watch a stop-motion animated movie about a genetic freak and that _stupid_ dentist elf!" Gabriel yells.

Raphael, Castiel notices, is avoiding the commotion, instead reading what Castiel assumes is some sort of case file or report on his phone. He occasionally glances up at his siblings, glaring at them, but he never tells them to be quiet. Castiel assumes he knows it would only make yell Gabriel louder to annoy him.

" _Cas!_ " Anna shrieks suddenly, "What movie do you think we should watch?"

Castiel jumps at the sudden invocation of his name, but before he can give his opinion, Gabriel scoffs. "He doesn't get a say in this, he's not even legal!"

Castiel rolls his eyes. "I turned nineteen in September, Gabriel," he says.

Gabriel looks genuinely surprised at the fact that his brother is two years older than he had originally thought, and the distraction is just enough for Inias to steal the remote from him.

"Hey!" Gabriel shouts, and Inias ducks under Gabriel's attempted right hook. By the time Gabriel wrestles the remote back, the channel has changed several times, flickering between _The Simpsons_ and some medical drama Castiel has always hated.

At that moment, with Anna and Hannah laughing on the couch and Inias and Gabriel wrestling on the ground, a soft _click_ sounds from three doors down the hall. The sound is barely audible over all the shouting, but it's enough to make every single person freeze.

Inias and Gabriel sit up quickly, and Anna stops laughing. Raphael doesn't stop reading whatever is on his phone screen, but Castiel notices the way his shoulders suddenly tense up. Castiel himself feels a terrible shiver run down his spine, and he wonders if he can dart downstairs before it's too late.

"What's going on out here?" a deep voice from behind him asks, ominously calm.

Castiel flinches involuntarily, slowly turning to face his father. Apparently, since Castiel was the closest child, his father has directed the question at him. He clears his throat. "I apologize for the noise," he says. "They were fighting—"

"They?" his father interrupts, a skeptical look on his face. "You're completely innocent, then. You had nothing to do with that ruckus."

Castiel's eyebrows knit together. If he says he didn't, which is the truth, his siblings might back him up, but his father might call him a liar. If he says he did, his father will likely just be disappointed in his son and tell the rest of them to be quiet while he works.

If his father has taught him anything over the past nineteen years, it is to never lie to him. Or, rather, to never make him _think_ that he's been lied to.

"I apologize," he says again. "We'll be quieter. We didn't intend to disturb you."

His father's mouth goes flat, and he nods. "Well, that obviously didn't work very well. I would suggest you all try harder next time."

The six of them all nod somberly, promising to be as good as silent, and all understanding the unspoken threat of punishment looming over them should they fail a second time.

Seemingly sated by the looks of compliance (and terror) on his children's faces, he walks back down the hallway and returns to his office.

Gabriel still holds the remote in his hand, but he places it on the coffee table. "I don't care what we watch," he says slowly. "Whatever you guys want."

Anna shrugs, frowning at the couch pillow she holds in her lap. "It's not that important, I guess. Hannah?"

Hannah silently changes the channel to a cable version of the reindeer movie she mentioned earlier, but no one seems very interested in it.

Castiel finds it almost funny— almost— that their father still holds such power over them. It was understandable that they were all terrified of him when they were in middle school, but everyone here except for Castiel is at least twenty, and they haven't lived at home for years. The only reason Castiel didn't move out was because his father would only pay for his higher education if he attended the college of his father's choice, which happened to be a business college, the same one Gabriel attended, and if he lived at home until he graduated.

His father claims this was out of generosity and love for his youngest child. Castiel knows it is simply because his father is afraid that if he allows Castiel to attend the college he wants to, his son will have a liberal arts degree instead of something "useful" like a business degree.

Castiel will concede that he isn't wrong— if he had a choice, he would have headed for an art school as far away from home as possible. However, he simply doesn't have enough money to pay for it himself, and therefore is stuck with the presence of his father looming over him constantly.

He figures it must say something about how effective, though scarring, his father's parenting skills are to ensure his children never lose their fear. No need to be afraid of monsters under your bed when you know the real monster is a few doors down the hall from your bedroom, working on an unspecified business project behind closed doors.

Castiel silently retreats downstairs before his siblings ask him to come join them in watching the movie, wondering if his mother has changed her mind and could use his assistance for something. Anything to get his mind off the rest of his family.

When he sees her in the dining room, however, she's already in the middle of setting out plates and silverware, arranging everything perfectly around the centerpiece and decorations that look like they must have cost hundreds, if not thousands of dollars. Castiel has never understood why his mother is willing to pay so much money on such shallow and trivial things as décor.

"Can I help you with bringing any food out?" he asks, carefully stepping out of her way as she carries a large dish of green bean casserole past him toward the table.

She sets it down, shakes a piece of her auburn hair out of her face, and then looks at Castiel for a moment before she nods. "Grab the rolls out of the oven for me, will you Castiel?"

He smiles gratefully and goes back to the kitchen to retrieve the pan of rolls that have just finished baking from the oven. He finds an oven mitt in one of the drawers and slips it one, carefully pulling the pan out by the edges so he doesn't touch the rolls or burn himself.

Before he can return to the dining room to place them on the table, someone shouts, "Castiel! How have you been?"

Panicking, because he'd recognize that voice anywhere, Castiel nearly drops the rolls, but he grabs the pan with his free hand before it can fall. The pan, however, is still searing hot from the oven, and he only put on one oven mitt. He drops the pan unceremoniously onto the table grabbing the hand he just burned and gritting his teeth against the pain. His palm has turned a bright red that is almost the same shade as the cranberry dressing his mother made.

"You alright there, Cas?" Luc laughs. "Still clumsy as ever, I see. That's not gonna get you very far with any ladies, if you know what I mean," he says jovially, bumping into Castiel as he walks toward the kitchen to find their mother.

"Hello, Castiel," Michael says calmly from the doorway. "You should get some ice for that."

Castiel scowls at him. "I am aware, Michael, thank you," he says sharply, and then he proceeds to continue arranging the silverware simply because he _hates_ doing what Michael wants him to.

Michael sighs, but knows insisting won't make Castiel listen. He follows Luc into the kitchen, and Castiel rolls his eyes when he hears the twins greeting their mother like they're the most perfect children in the world. Although, he supposes, they are. At least in his parents' eyes.

When Castiel is finished placing the food, his mother calls the rest of his family downstairs for dinner.

Seated at the table, between Inias and Anna, Castiel realizes for the first time that dinner, unfortunately, smells delicious. He had planned on eating a quick plate of salad and then hiding in his bedroom before any political arguments could break out between Luc and Michael. Because, undoubtedly, they would find _something_ to fight about. However, the aroma from the honeyed ham, garlic potatoes, and homemade cranberry dressing reminds Castiel's stomach that he hasn't eaten since breakfast— yesterday— and he decides staying long enough to eat a few more portions than he originally planned wouldn't be too detrimental.

Just as he takes a bite of (amazing) ham, Anna nudges him with her elbow, glancing down at his hand. "Are you okay, Castiel? What happened?"  
He shrugs, embarrassed that she had noticed. "I'm fine," he promises. "I burned it on the bread pan."  
She frowns at him, concerned. "You should at least put a bandage or something on it, don't you think?"

He shrugs again. "I can look for one after dinner," he says, and Anna doesn't look like she believes him, but she doesn't push it.

"So," their father suddenly says from his seat at the head of the table, "How has everyone been since Anna's engagement party?"

Castiel raises his eyebrows in surprise, because he honestly hadn't realized it had been so long. Of course, he hadn't seen since Michael and Luc since he was sixteen, because they hadn't bothered to attend their younger sister's big event, but the rest of his siblings had been there. The party had been almost a year ago, however, which meant Castiel hadn't seen Gabriel, Anna, Hannah, Inias, or Raphael in eleven months.

It says something about his relationship with his siblings that he can go that long without speaking to them and not even notice.

"Well, I'll start things off, if no one else will," Michael says, naturally fulfilling his role as the oldest. "I've been promoted to CEO of the Paradiso Corporation."

Castiel's mother smiles, applauding her son lightly. "Congratulations, darling," she says. "I'm sure you'll run it better than the old one ever did."

Michael laughs at that, most likely because he knows it's a true statement, rather than finding it humorous.

"Hey, Castiel," Luc smirks. "You found a girlfriend yet?"

Castiel tries his best to glare at Luc, not wanting to be forced to actually answer the question, and is thankful when Inias, seemingly not having heard Luc ask, interrupts.

"Raphael and I have something as well," he says, and the family turns their attention to him. "I can't give you all many details, but we've been promoted to work on a high-profile case." He sounds prideful, an emotion that Castiel finds well-deserved, but his father gives Inias a subtle glare. Castiel can see Inias physically deflate.

"Which case?" Hannah asks, attempting to restore his original excitement.

Before Inias can start to answer, Raphael interrupts gruffly, "It's a federal assignment, top-secret. We can't disclose that information."

"Well, you're not very fun, are you?" Anna giggles.

Raphael rolls his eyes. "I value national security above amusing my younger siblings, Anna," he says, which only makes her laugh again.

"I've almost completed my current business project," their father interjects abruptly, and his nonchalant concern doesn't match the absolute incredulity of that statement. For as long as Castiel can remember— since before he was born, most likely— his father has been working on his project. He seems to live in his office, and only on occasions such as disciplining his unruly children or participating in family dinners did he ever emerge from it.

Only Michael and Lucifer seem unperturbed, as if this were the sort of news they are used to receiving. The rest of the Miltons, on the other hand, including their mother, are shocked. "Well, congratulations to you, too, dear," she says politely, quickly recovering from the initial astonishment.

He nods once, and apparently has nothing else to offer on the subject, despite all of his children staring at him as if he had suddenly turned purple.

"Well," Anna says slowly, clearing her throat awkwardly, "I also have an important announcement to make."

"What is it?" Castiel asks, before he can stop himself. Anything important that has happened to Anna actually matters to him, unlike any announcements his brothers or father have made.

She smiles nervously. "Well, I would like to preface this by saying what happened wasn't planned at all, but that Ethan and I are both elated." She takes a deep breath. "I'm pregnant."

Other than the small gasp from their mother, the room is suddenly filled with an oppressive silence. Then, their father says quietly, "I could have sworn you and Ethan weren't getting married until March."

"Oh," Anna says, still smiling to cover her nerves, "We aren't. I mean, we're not married yet. The wedding is still in March."

"Are you trying to tell me," Their father says in a low, ominous tone, "That you and Ethan are having this child out of wedlock?"

"Dad," she says, and her eyes widen in fear. "We're still engaged, we're getting married in three months! Please, I thought you would understand—"

"I understand perfectly!" he shouts, standing up so quickly he nearly knocks over his chair. "My daughter has fallen into the Enemy's trap, given in to temptation, and she expects me to _understand_?"

"Dear, please calm down," their mother pleads, but to no avail.

"No! I will not calm down! I didn't raise my oldest daughter to be a _whore!_ "

As soon as he finishes his sentence, three things happen at once. Anna bursts into frightened tears, still trying to explain to their father why this has happened; Gabriel stands up as well, and starts yelling something about how he won't let him call her that, even if he is their father; Luc just laughs. A chuckle at first, and then a guffaw, and then he's laughing so loudly that Castiel can't even hear his father yelling anymore.

The chaos and noise is overwhelming, so much that Castiel just wants to crawl underneath the table and hide until everyone calms down.

Except, then, his father starts making his way around the table toward Anna, who is already bracing herself to be hit.

Inexplicably, it's her flinch that sparks the anger in Castiel's chest, her fear that suddenly makes him want to grab his father's handgun from the safe in the attic and use it against him. It makes him want to rip his father apart, for everything he has done to terrify and abuse his children.

"Stop!" he shouts, stepping in front of Anna before his father can strike.

He does stop, but out of surprise more than obedience. Castiel is probably the quietest Milton, and standing up to his father is something unheard of.

"Get out of my way, Castiel," he says, and the hint of _amusement_ in his voice makes Castiel's blood boil. "I don't have a reason to hit you, and I don't want to."

"Oh, yes, you do," Castiel says. His heart is beating faster than he thinks it ever has before. He wasn't going to admit this to his family, his father especially, but if it saves Anna, he must. "Luc asked earlier if I had a girlfriend, to which the answer is no," he begins.

"Is this really the time, Cas?" Inias asks, partially curious as to where Castiel is going with this, and partially concerned that Castiel might have finally gone crazy.

"But the answer is no," Castiel continues, "Because I have a _boyfriend_ instead. His name is Richard Roman."

"I'm sorry," his father says slowly, and Castiel can see him processing the information. "Are you insinuating that you are... a homosexual, Castiel?"

Castiel laughs. He knows it's not appropriate even ironically, but suddenly the whole situation is hilarious. "No, I'm not 'insinuating,' I'm telling you. I'm gay."

"Darling, I think you might be—"

"I'm not confused, Mother," he says calmly. "I'm not mistaken. It's not a phase. It's the truth, and it always will be."

"You seem very sure about that," his father says.

"I am sure," Castiel affirms.

His father huffs angrily, seemingly unable to decide between glaring at his son and avoiding his gaze entirely. "I am terribly sorry to hear that, Castiel. You know that I cannot allow you to continue making such horrific choices while you still live in this house, correct?"

Castiel just stares back, steely. It isn't even worth getting into a fight about how it isn't a choice now, because he knows his father will never recognize that it could be his own genetics that caused this _abomination_. "I am aware," he says coldly. "And I would hate to tarnish your shining reputation within your precious community."

His father must be conscious of the sarcasm that all but dripped from Castiel's words, but all he says in reply is, "I'm glad you understand why this has to happen, then."

Castiel expects his father to send him up to his room, ground him for months, require him to stop seeing his boyfriend, and even cease payments for Castiel's classes at the college.

Castiel _doesn't_ expect to suddenly feel a jarring pain in the right side of his jaw, which is why it takes him a minute to understand why it appears.

It isn't the physical action of his father hitting him that surprises Castiel, but the sheer amount of hatred and loathing that his father manages to convey with it. The physical punishments he and his siblings had come to expect in their childhoods had always been surrounded with an atmosphere of apathy, of indifference to the pain their father caused in favor of raising his children correctly. This, however, is so full of emotion, so full of intent to _hurt_ instead of _correct_ , that Castiel doesn't even know what to say.

Other than a small, quick gasp from Anna's direction, his family is silent. They've learned over the years, he supposes, that when their father is mad, interference will only increase the damage exponentially. Castiel glares at his father furiously, but stays silent.

"I raised my children better than this," his father says. "I raised you all _better than this!_ I thought I had succeeded in raising all eight of my children properly, but obviously I was wrong. You were the youngest, Castiel, and perhaps that resulted in some natural rebellious tendencies, but this? This is _unacceptable_. You have _ruined_ this family, Castiel! I will not tolerate _abominations_ in my household!"

"I am still your son," Castiel insists. "Your religion, your god, your Bible, you think that's all more important than loving and accepting your own _family?_ "

"I accept my family," his father says. "In fact, I am well-known in this community for loving my wife and each and every one of my children."

Castiel is confused at his seeming sudden acceptance, but he feels a rush of relief. If his father still loves him, this whole situation can be fixed. It isn't hopeless—

"All seven of them."

The air rushes from his lungs, and before he fully comprehends the weight of that statement, he already feels like he's falling. His stomach and his heart suddenly want to change places, and before he even speaks, he can feel his voice grow thick.

" _What?_ " he croaks. " _Are you disowning me?_ "

"Only if you refuse to repent, Castiel. I will not be scorned by this community as the man who let his son consort with the Devil, as the man who _failed_ in raising his youngest child and instead created a monster!" he shouts.

"If anyone here is a monster," Castiel says dangerously, "God knows it isn't me."

If his father has a reply to that, Castiel doesn't hear it, because he's already storming toward the front door.

"Castiel, wait!" Anna calls, and she stands up from the table as if she wants to follow him, but Gabriel says something Castiel can't quite understand and she sits back down as he exits the house.

The weather outside, coincidentally, reflects his mood in that it is dark, grey, and cold. It's not a rare occurrence, snow on Christmas, but it rarely arrives with so much howling wind to accompany it. Castiel considers, briefly, if it might be better to chance driving his car on the slick streets to avoid hypothermia, but after taking one look at the ubiquitous covering of ice on _everything_ he decides against it.

He starts out wandering, no particular destination in mind, but when he thinks about it there is only one place he can go. He doesn't often visit his boyfriend's house, but he knows the way well enough and it isn't far from his own house.

When he rings the doorbell with numb and blue-tinged fingers, it takes Dick a few moments to answer the door. "Castiel," he says politely, but surprised. "You didn't tell me you were going to visit so late."

It really is too late for a typical visit, but Castiel assumes this counts about as far from typical as possible. "I—I didn't have a ch-chance," Castiel explains, shivering almost violently. "I'll explain in a m-moment. Can I please c-come in?" Dick looks at him warily, but steps back and allows Castiel to enter. "Thank you," he says, grateful for the burst of warm air that rushes over him immediately.

"So, what prompted this unexpected visit?" Dick asks, leading him away from the entrance hall upstairs to his bedroom. "Did you miss me?"

Castiel smiles softly, shaking his head. "Of course I missed you, but that's not why I'm here. It's a long story, actually."

"Then let me get you some hot coffee before you start. Wouldn't want you to freeze, right?" He leaves Castiel to sit on the bed while he goes to prepare Castiel's drink. He hopes Dick remembers he likes it black.

Castiel isn't sure of how Dick is going to react to the news that he came out to his parents and announced their relationship without his permission. They had agreed to keep it a secret from both their parents, simply because it would be less painful for everyone if no one else knew. Dick is a nice boyfriend, of course, but he has… tendencies that Castiel isn't exactly fond of.

"Alright," Dick says as he enters the bedroom again, a steaming mug in his hand. "Vanilla creamer was all we had, I hope that's okay."

Castiel takes the cup, noticing that the liquid inside is about twenty shades lighter than he prefers it. He smiles anyways to avoid confrontation. It's warm, and that's really all that he cares about at the moment. "Thank you."

"Not a problem," Dick replies, sitting down next to him on the bed. "Now, let's hear that story."

Castiel blows softly on his coffee, takes a short, careful sip, and begins with the most important piece of information. "My father disowned me," he says, and he surprises himself with how easily he's able to admit it. "I told him I was gay, and he kicked me out."

Dick's eyebrows furrow together. "I thought we agreed not to tell anyone, Castiel."

Castiel sighs, and nods. "I know, and I'm so sorry that it happened like this. It's just… He was about to hurt Anna, and I had to distract him. It was the only thing I could think of that would get his attention."

"Well, I really would have appreciated it if you had discussed it with me first," Dick says disapprovingly. "Why did you have to play the hero, Castiel? Why couldn't you have you just let it happen? From what you've told me, it wouldn't have been unusual for your father."

Castiel scoffs. "As if I had time to call you and ask permission? My father was going to hit my sister, who is _pregnant_. I made an impulsive decision, I know, but it was to save her. You understand that, right? Any other situation, and I promise I wouldn't have done that without talking to you."

Dick looks at him closely, as if to determine whether or not he's lying. "I understand," he says finally, "But I'm not happy about it."

"You don't have to be," Castiel says. "I know it will affect you too, if my father decides to intervene in our relationship."

"Right. So, Castiel, what are you going to do now? Do you have any relatives to stay with?" he inquires. "You aren't moving away from me, are you?"

"Dick," Castiel says slowly. "This happened less than an hour ago. I have no idea. The only one of my relatives who doesn't hate me now is Anna, but she's about to get married and have a child. I've never even met her fiancé. I can't stay with her, and I don't have anyone else. Actually, I was hoping I could stay here…" At the displeased look on Dick's face, Castiel quickly amended his statement. "Just for a while, I mean, not permanently. I wouldn't ask you to do that."

"Good. My parents would get suspicious if I asked if you could stay, and my mother wouldn't want to support another person anyway." Dick thought about it for a moment, and then announced, "You can stay here tonight. But then you should go back home."

Castiel tilted his head to the side, giving Dick a curious expression. "What part of 'disowned' did you not understand?"

Dick laughs, clapping a hand down on Castiel's shoulder. "Come on, Castiel, you really believe that he meant it?"

"Um, yes. He was very clear about how I was never to return because, and I quote, he 'will not tolerate abominations in this household.'" Castiel explains, shrugging Dick's hand away.

"Oh, just give him some time to cool down, process the information. You'll go back in the morning, before my parents get back from their excursion in India at ten." He gives Castiel a bright smile. "It'll all be fine."

Castiel looks at him skeptically, but doesn't argue. Dick may be slightly apathetic at times, but he's smart, and Castiel trusts him. "Alright. Thank you so much for letting me stay," he says. "Which guest room should I stay in?"

Dick directs him to a spare bedroom decorated like it could have come straight from an interior design magazine, in pastel shades of blue and beige. "You can stay here, but sleep on top of the blankets, okay? I don't want you to mess up the comforter, because my mom would definitely notice."

Castiel nods. "I will be cautious. Thank you again, Dick."

Dick smiles at him, kissing him quickly on the lips. "No problem. You owe me one, though. See you in the morning."

Castiel closes the door behind his boyfriend, grateful he's been granted even a single day away from his family in a safe, warm house. He's still wearing his snow-covered pants and multiple layers, so he strips down to his underwear and a t-shirt and quickly falls asleep on top of the blankets, leaving any thoughts of how he's going to fix this to wait until the morning.

\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

"Castiel, wake up."

Castiel's eyes open slowly, his vision still too fuzzy to immediately recognize the face of the person waking him up so early.

"Castiel, come on, my parents got home early, you need to leave now."

The events of the previous night come back to him all at once, and he remembers why he's in such an unfamiliar bedroom with someone he isn't related to shaking him to rouse him from his sleep.

"They're—" he tries to say, but his throat is still thick. "What?"

"They're _here_ , Castiel!" Dick says, quietly but insistently. "You're going to have to climb out the window."

Oh. _Oh_.

Castiel launches himself off of the bed, frantically searching the floor for his pants, only to see that Dick is standing there, holding them out to him along with his sweater and jacket. "Hurry up, Castiel. The last thing I need right now is to get caught with a boy in his underwear in my house. I'll be grounded for months."

Castiel bites back a sarcastic comment of how horrible it would be for Dick to be grounded when Castiel got off so easily with a disownment, because he's too busy trying to pull on his sweater and pants at the same time to speak. He also doesn't think Dick would appreciate it very much.

As soon as he is re-clothed, he realizes something terrible. "Dick," he whispers, "My boots are still downstairs."

"Shit," Dick says. "Shit, shit, shit. Why would you leave them down there, Castiel? God, you'll have to use some of mine. I want them back later, though."

"You said to put them—" Castiel tries to defend himself, but Dick is already down the hall, retrieving a pair of boots that might be Castiel's size.

He stands silently, listening carefully for any footsteps that aren't his boyfriend's, and is relieved when he returns with a pair of boots without incident.

"Go, go, go," Dick says, shoving the shoes at Castiel and bouncing on the balls of his feet waiting for him to put them on. He moves to the window, looking out down at the ground. "You can't jump, it's too high," he says, "But there's a fire escape ladder. You can use that."

Castiel straps the boots on and follows Dick to the window. "It looks very icy. Are you sure it's safe?"

Dick opens the window just far enough to allow Castiel to fit through, letting in an unpleasant draft of freezing air. "You'll be fine. Just hold on tight."

Castiel eyes the ladder warily. "I don't think—"

"Dick?" a female voice from down the hallway calls suddenly. "Are you up here? Come say hello to your father and me!"

"Damn it," Dick curses. "One moment, Mother!" he calls back, and then turns to Castiel. "Go, now."

"But—" He doesn't have to finish his protest, however, because Dick grabs him by the shoulders and starts shoving his out the window, forcing him to grab the ladder to avoid falling and breaking his neck.

"Climb," Dick commands, "I'll see you later." And then he shoves the window closed, narrowly missing Castiel's nose.

It's still dark outside, probably around five o'clock, before the sun has started to rise, and in addition to his limited vision, each rung of the ladder is treacherously icy. The freezing temperature of the metal quickly numbs his fingers, and he contemplates whether or not slipping from this height would cause a fatal injury. He also wonders if he should avoid said injury, or whether it would be easier at this point just to make it look like an accident.

That would still get Dick in trouble, though, because his parents would wonder why Castiel was attempting to escape the guest bedroom in the first place.

He slowly and carefully proceeds down the ladder, trying to avoid using the hand he burned at dinner. It is an even more precarious and nerve-wracking descent with one hand, but he slips only once and catches himself before he falls.

By the time he reaches the ground, he has to spend two minutes breathing on his hands and rubbing them together to return feeling to them before he sets off toward his house.

Castiel normally enjoys taking walks in the early morning, before any other soul is out on the street to ruin the peace and quiet. However, in this ungodly cold and considering the reasons he has to take this walk at all, he can't find it within himself to appreciate it.

Despite his freezing extremities, when he arrives at his front door it takes him nearly a full five minutes to work up the nerve to knock.

Surprisingly, his mother answers the door almost immediately, and pulls Castiel into a hug despite how wet his jacket is from the snow. "I thought you were gone forever, Castiel," she says, muffled by his shoulder. "I'm so glad you came back. I told your father he shouldn't have done that, but you left your phone here and I couldn't call you… I thought you were never going to come home."

Castiel awkwardly hugs his mother back once, unsettled by her tears and emotion, two things she rarely showed in front of her children. "Mom," he says quietly, "I'm just here to pack a bag. I'm going to leave again."

"What?" she says, eyes wide when she pulls away to look Castiel in the eye. "No, honey, I've almost convinced your father to let you stay. You know, there's plenty of therapy and treatments I've found online, they can help you…"

"There's nothing to help, Mother," he says, probably more harshly than necessary. "I know Father is never going to take me back, and I honestly don't want him to."

Tears well up in his mother's eyes again. "If you insist. But please," she pleads. "Stay for Christmas morning. We still have presents for you."

He thinks about it for a moment, and then agrees. "Fine, I'll stay for presents. After that, I'm leaving."

"Okay," she says, smiling softly through her tears. "That's better than nothing, I suppose. I'll go wake up your siblings, we'll do it right now." She disappears upstairs.

He sits down on the sofa in the living room, looking at the massive pile of Christmas presents stacked under the tree. It isn't hard to tell who has wrapped which ones— Michael's are all perfectly wrapped in uniform navy paper; Anna's in festive white and red, reminiscent of a candy cane; Luc's stuffed in store-bought, uncreative bags with a few pieces of tissue paper sticking out of the top in un-Christmas-y colors; and Gabriel's wrapping paper features cartoon women wearing the "sexy" version of Santa Clause's costume. Castiel had bought presents as well, of course, fairly impersonal gifts for each of his family members that they would appreciate but that wouldn't stand out as incredibly thoughtful.

"The prodigal son returns," Luc says, suddenly emerging from the shadows behind Castiel and startling him enough to almost fall off of the couch.

"Merry Christmas, Luc," Castiel says bitterly in return.

"You sound a little bit grumpy, Mr. Scrooge," Luc smirks. "Where's your Christmas spirit?"

"Buried far underground and abandoned. Like your corpse will be if you don't leave me alone," Castiel bites back.

Luc drops down onto the couch beside Castiel, laughing. "Death threats already and we haven't even started with the presents yet. I think you might have set a record." Castiel ignores his brother, instead staring in the opposite direction toward the empty fireplace. "Cas," Luc says, poking him in the shoulder. "Oh, come on. Lighten up. Seriously, talk to me. I wanna know how it feels to be even more of a fuck-up than me."

Castiel shoves his hand away but stays silent, and Luc laughs again. He's saved from further torment by the sound of a sudden stampede from upstairs.

"Merry Christmas!" Anna calls, leading the rest of their siblings down the stairs but stopping short when she sees the occupants of the sofa in front of her. "Cas?" she says in disbelief, then rushes at him to envelop him in a hug, which he returns gingerly. "Come on, Cas, I won't break." He genuinely smiles at that, grateful for her display of affection, glad that at least someone in his family doesn't hate him or want him to be something he's not.

The rest of his siblings are also surprised at his sudden appearance, but only Gabriel acknowledges him, asking if it's Castiel's fault that they're awake so early. Other than Michael, who glares at Castiel, the others seem to simply avoid his gaze. He doesn't blame them. And, as their father has yet to appear, Castiel assumes his mother has informed him of his abominable son's return and he refuses to ever look at Castiel again.

They all find a seat in various positions in the living room, although Castiel makes sure Anna gets a spot on the sofa instead of the floor. They exchange gifts, each one traditionally practical and useful but impersonal. Castiel receives notebooks for school, a few interesting trinkets and books, and (his favorite) a new sketch book from Anna. Gabriel gives him a bottle of vodka, which he carefully shoves back into the box to hide before his mother can see it. The others' gifts are similar, and aside from the scattered "thank you"s, the process is mostly silent.

The lack of noise is why, fifteen minutes later, the footsteps coming down the stairs are perfectly clear. When his father emerges, he takes in the scene in front of him and locks his gaze on Castiel.

"Do you plan on staying long?" he asks. "Your mother only cooked enough for the nine of us."

From the look on his mother's face, this isn't true, but she doesn't say it out loud. It is at that precise moment that Castiel remembers what he thought about earlier this morning, while he was climbing down the ladder. He smiles to himself, down at his lap. "Don't worry, Father," he says. "I'm finished with my presents. I'm going to pack a bag, and then I'll be gone. You'll never have to deal with me again."

His father nods. "Good. Go pack. You have half an hour."

"Darling—" his mother tries to negotiate, but Castiel stops her.

"That's plenty of time, Mother. Thank you, though." He turns to Anna, and bends down to give her another hug. "Good luck with your family," he tells her with a smile. "I hope your kid doesn't turn out like me."

He makes it halfway up the stairs, waves once at his siblings, and then when he's sure his father is no longer watching, he walks straight past his bedroom door to the end of the hallway. He reaches up, pulls the trapdoor open and unfolds the ladder that will lead him to the attic. He doesn't close it behind him, because he wants his family to be able to hear clearly what happens next.

The attic is small compared to the rest of the house, but well-kept and organized. His mother has never liked dust, and so even though the attic is mostly for storage it's clean and each box is labelled by its contents.

This makes it that much easier to find the small, silver safe toward the back, underneath the single round window that lets in the first few rays of the sunrise. He looks down at the snow-covered ground outside, and the white ice particles sharply reflect the light. The wind has died down, however, and the snow drifts peacefully down from the clouds. It has a calming effect, and Castiel isn't disappointed that this view is going to be the last thing he sees.

Because he does plan to die, after all. He's furious with how his family treats him, all the psychological torture from Luc and the emotional abuse from his father. He loves Anna, of course, and his mother is just trying to help, but there will be so much less drama and tension without him that they'll be better off in the end. Dick will probably be angry with him for leaving, but when has Dick ever not been angry?

It's been a long, hard nineteen years, and he's done. He's tried, God knows he's tried to keep his head down and make his family like him. He got a boyfriend and tried to be happy, but it never worked. It never has worked, and it never will, so this is the only way to avoid a long, terrible, miserable existence.

He kneels down in front of the safe, using the four-digit code Gabriel taught him once when he was thirteen and trying to scare him and that their father hadn't thought to change, even after he caught Gabriel in the act (and gave them both one hell of a beating). It unlocks smoothly, and there it sits, next to a case of bullets.

Castiel doesn't know much about guns, but it isn't difficult to figure out how to load it and turn off the safety. It sits heavy in his palm, sleek and black, and sort of beautiful in a way. It's his way out, his ticket to blissful oblivion instead of whatever kind of hell this life has been.

He's still kneeling there staring at it when he hears Gabriel behind him. "Castiel? What the fuck are you— oh my God."

Castiel quickly turns, knowing it's too late to pretend he's doing anything but holding a loaded gun and intending to use it. "Hello, Gabriel," he says calmly, and Gabriel is too busy gaping at his little brother to respond.

"Are you— did you— fuck— damn it, Castiel, who the fuck are you planning on shooting with that?" he demands.

Castiel looks down at it, turning it over in his hands. "Not our father, if that's what you're afraid of. I don't plan on commuting murder today."

Gabriel is stiff, more scared than Castiel has ever seen him, even around their father. "Suicide is still murder, Castiel!"

"Is it really?" he says, as if this were an everyday, interesting fact to be shared in a pleasant conversation. "Well, then, maybe I do plan to commit a murder."

"Why do you want to kill yourself, Cas?" Gabriel asks, and Castiel pretends not to notice that he's slowly moving closer.

"Have you not been present the past few days? Are you blind as well as extremely immature? My family hates me, and I'm an 'abomination.' What am I good for anymore?" He feels like laughing at Gabriel's naivety, but he thinks that might make Gabriel think he's psychopathic as well as suicidal, and that probably won't help his case.

"You're good for a lot of things, Castiel," Gabriel says, and Castiel does scoff at that.

"Like what?"

"Art, for one," Gabriel says. "And have you already forgotten just last night you basically saved Anna's baby's life? Possibly her own life, too?"

"And have you forgotten just last night I was disowned?" Castiel retorts. "I don't have anywhere else to go, Gabriel. My boyfriend can't offer me a place to stay, and it's not exactly like I have any other friends."

Gabriel thinks about it for a split second before offering, "You can stay with me, then."

Castiel is shocked that Gabriel would even think about making that an option. Out of all his siblings, Anna was always the one he was closest with, and he went to Inias with any questions he had about school. Gabriel was always too childish for Castiel's intellectual preferences, and as such they never interacted much.

"Oh, don't look so surprised," Gabriel says. "I'd rather share a house with you than watch you splatter your brains on the wall any day. And besides, I was looking to upgrade anyways, and this will give me an excuse to buy a bigger house."

Castiel just looks at him, unable to tell what his ulterior motives might be, or even if he's being serious.

"Come on, Cas, please," his older brother says softly. "Don't do this. There are so many other options. Hey, we can move to California. You've always wanted to go there, right? I can finish my Master's at Stanford, and you can look for any liberal arts college you want. You never have to speak to Mom or Dad again, and you'll still be able to see Anna's baby when it finally gets here. You don't have to be miserable anymore. Alright? What do you say?" He finishes with his signature, charming smile, the one that's gotten him into so many people's hearts and out of so much trouble.

Castiel considers the offer. Gabriel makes it sound so easy, like he could just change everything and suddenly not be so unhappy. "I don't think I even know how to not be miserable," he admits quietly, and he realizes only when Gabriel lays his hand on top of the gun in Castiel's that his brother had gotten so close. He lets Gabriel take it, listens to him put it back in the safe and lock it. Then he feels Gabriel's arms wrap around him, something he hasn't felt since his earliest childhood memories.

He lets Gabriel hug him, and he believes his brother when he tells him, "Don't worry. I'll teach you how."

And for the first time in possibly his entire life, Castiel thinks that the future might not be so bad.


End file.
